


The Picnic Table

by ErRose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28421538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErRose/pseuds/ErRose
Summary: It's all super mild, I just don't want to trigger anyone because i fked myself up pretty bad writing this, and dont want to do that to anyone else.Dean and Lee share a kiss while sitting on a picnic table when they think they are alone.
Relationships: Lee Webb/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 29





	The Picnic Table

Thirty years ago the motel they were squatting in was probably nice. It had a large picnic area strewn with tables and a wide field of grass that was hidden from the road by a row of hedges. But now most of the tables were half rotted, the field was nothing but tall weeds, and the hedges were overgrown. But after sitting Sam down inside with some gas station dinner and his homework, Dean and Lee went and sat on top of the sturdiest looking picnic table to eat their junk food and drink the beers they had managed to swipe. 

Their part of the hunt had gone well, and now they just had to wait until John returned. He usually grabbed a beer or two at a local bar, so they figured it could be a while. 

Though he only saw him every so often when their hunts happened to overlap, Lee was Dean’s best friend- talking to him was easy. Talking to Sam involved twenty layers of obfuscation to protect him, and talking to his father was more about always saying exactly the right thing. But he could joke with Lee, and talk about the things that scared him and instead of feeling like a burden, he would feel like a weight had been lifted from his chest. 

Lee made a joke and Dean laughed himself stupid until his stomach hurt. When the laughter finally subsided, he wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up at Lee who was grinning smugly. Out of nowhere, Dean realized that he wanted to kiss him. And that he had wanted to for a very long time. He hated himself for it, but that did not change the fact that he wanted to lick the small dab of icing off of his bottom lip. When Lee’s tongue darted out, Dean’s breath escaped him, but instead of looking away in shame, he made eye contact with Lee. 

They both leaned toward each other, and Dean’s heart was beating out of his chest, whether it was with excitement or shame he couldn’t tell. Their lips met and Lee tasted like twinkies and bad beer. Lee’s hand gently touched his waist and his skin seemed to sizzle under the touch. Dean’s hand, gentle and shaking, made its way to Lee’s jaw rough with stubble, of its own volition. Lee did what Dean was scared to do and pulled them closer, licking at his lips for entry. He let his lips part and he could feel Lee’s breath in his mouth. 

Dean liked kissing girls, he really did. But something about kissing Lee felt right. Usually when he kissed a girl, she was practically a stranger. But Lee- he knew all of Lee’s bad habits, and the sound of his snoring. He knew what his anger sounded like and all of his different laughs. He wanted to know the feel of his hands- laced between his fingers, brushed against his cheek, threaded through his hair, dipped below his waist. 

The thought sent him reeling and he had to pull away, one hand firm on Lee’s chest while his breath came in pants and he couldn’t look into Lee’s eyes. It was too overwhelming to think about him palming him through his jeans or dipping into his pants while kissing him- he was already half hard. Lee dipped his face down and pressed their foreheads together, whispering soft assurances. He couldn’t think of time he had been shown this much tenderness and he wanted to drown in it. His mind raced with plans to run away with Lee, hunting together just the two of them with Sammy in the backseat. They were eighteen now, and Sammy would be fifteen soon, they could do it. And though he never intended to go through with it- hindered both by his need to protect Sam and his sense of loyalty and duty- he found comfort in the thought of taking Sam and just going- in never seeing his father again, never having to say “yes, sir” and endure the abuse and anger. 

He finally managed to look at Lee, who was looking back at him, searching Dean’s eyes to make sure everything was okay. He kissed Lee again, with more purpose this time. He could feel Lee smile as he kissed back. This wasn’t like the sloppy make out sessions Dean would have with girls while waiting for John to return from a hunt. A tender feeling snaked through his belly and seized at his heart. 

Lee’s fingers stroked through the hair on the back of his neck and Dean gasped at the gentleness. Lee chuckled again and broke the kiss. Dean touched Lee’s cheek, seeking out eye contact, but the soft look in Lee’s eye was gone, replaced by something like fear. 

Suddenly terrified that something was happening to Sam, he turned toward the door, planning to sprint inside. Instead he was frozen in place. John stood stock still, disgust evident on his face. 

“Get away from my boy,” 

“Sir, we-” Dean didn’t know how he was going to finish the sentence, but it didn’t matter. He stalked toward them, like they were a monster and he was coming in for the kill. “Dad, he didn’t do-”

“Shut up, Dean. I won’t have my own son turn into some kind of-” he cut himself off, like he couldn’t even say the word. “I said, get away from my boy, Webb,” 

Dean saw his father’s hand move to the back of his waist. He didn’t think he would actually shoot Lee, but still he closed his eyes tight and whispered, “Please just go,”

“Dean, we can go together.” He reached out to touch Dean’s cheek again, but this time, Dean recoiled, the once warm touch suddenly turning his blood to ice. He bit the inside of his mouth until it bled to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Lee.

“Go,” was all he could trust himself to say without his voice cracking. 

Without another word, Lee stood from the table and left, but Dean knew he was hurt. His heart ached sending him away, but he didn’t want to test how far his father would go with the pistol tucked into his waistband. 

Now Dean was going to bear the brunt of his father’s rage and hatred alone, no one else would get hurt because of him. He stalked toward Dean, hands clenching at his side, blood of the witches he had hunted still splattered across his chest. But Dean stood his ground, just waiting for it to be over. John would shove him around a little, maybe give him a black eye or a bloody nose, and then it would be over. Sam would know what had happened, but not ask any questions. 

“Whatever those witches did to you’ll wear off soon. Some kind of lust spell I’d say to make you boys act like that.” There was so much anger and disgust in his eyes. Dean wasn’t sure if John actually believed it was a spell or if that was the only way he could rationalize what he had seen. 

All Dean could manage was a weak “Yes, sir.”

John told Dean to go get Sammy and help him pack the car. He tried not to cry when Sam asked him where Lee went, and they packed the car in silence. 

They ran into Lee on two or three more hunts before he retired, but none of them ever mentioned that day on the picnic table.

**Author's Note:**

> I cried a lot while writing this so I didn't do as much editing as I should have, but I hope you liked it.


End file.
